In His Name
by ibrakefornerfherders
Summary: Can a slick con artist named Han Solo outwit the brilliant Princess Leia in this way, way, way AU?
1. Chapter 1

Han Solo had pulled an infinite amount of crazy, stupid, and dangerous stunts in his lifetime, but none of them compared to what he would attempt in the coming days.

Han Solo had told some outrageous lies and deceived many people in his lifetime, but none of them could hold a candle to the tall tale he was preparing to spin.

The nervous Corellian fidgeted in his pilot's seat, eventually craning his head to gaze up longingly, almost pleadingly, at the endless sky. Although the pilot had only landed on Alderaan moments earlier, he already ached to be back where he belonged, flying among the stars.

Freedom.

Gods, the Corellian loved flying. Han hadn't ever belonged to anyone, to anything, or anywhere until that momentous day when the restless man had settled into the pilot seat of a spacecraft for the first time. Only then had he realized his lot in life.

A few years later, Han won his beloved ship, the Millennium Falcon, in a Sabbac game against his friend/foe Lando Calrissian. The moment, the triumphant winner entered the ship for the first time, he just knew he'd finally found his home.

Piloting his prized ship produced a euphoric rush far greater than what he imagined even the most potent spice provided to an addict. Flight injected him with an inexpressible buzz that no other experience in his 31 years of life had ever come close to matching. An exhilarating contradiction, flying felt simultaneously lonely and unifying.

Yeah, maybe his description didn't make much sense to most people, but the difficulty defining his favorite pastime's appeal epitomized why he loved it. One could not condense flight in layman's terms. Even the galaxy's greatest poets would struggle to deliver adequately expressive language to evoke the adrenaline rush it produced.

Speaking of adrenaline rushes, Han swallowed nervously and tried to ignore his rapid pulse. Wiping a bead of perspiration off his forehead, he scanned the cockpit desperate to find a small task that would keep him inside his cocoon for even a few minutes longer, but he found none.

Tapping his fingers anxiously against the dashboard of his ship, Han briefly ran the insane plan through his mind once again and felt a looming sense of doom. His anxiety regarding the situation signaled internal warning calls suggesting he ditch the ridiculous plot and hightail it out off the peaceful planet while he still could.

What the hell was he thinking? He had felt so much more confident two days earlier when he had hatched the scheme. Then again, he had been loaded with alcohol then. With the benefit of a clear head came the realization that pulling off a ruse of such enormous proportion was akin to trying to navigate his clunky ship through an asteroid field.

What if he failed? No, negative thoughts were unwelcome. His plan had to succeed. Lives depended on its success.

That Han's life was under threat was not his biggest problem. He'd had a hefty price on his head for the last few months thanks to a dropped shipment that he couldn't repay. It hadn't been his fault, but those are the brakes when you agree to work for a notorious crime lord like Jabba The Hutt, who never bothered with tedious subjects, like fairness.

Han's concern had only escalated after a former business contact delivered the unsettling news that Chewie, his best friend, co-pilot, and partner, now had a bounty on him as well. It was a low move by his ex-boss. The Wookiee wasn't even a signer in Han's business contract with his employer, but what did details matter? When did Jabba ever play fair?

To protect Chewie, who had spent the last ten years glued stubbornly to his side thanks to a life debt, Han cooked up a cockamamie story about needing personal time to himself. To his surprise, the Wookiee had bought the lie. A few days later, he had deposited his buddy on Kashyyyk, where his friend reunited with his family for an indefinite amount of time.

Having accomplished his noble task, Han had flown to his birth planet, Corellia, and wasted the last few days roaming around town revisiting old haunts. He met up with some old friends and paid numerous visits to various cantinas, funneling alcohol into his body while debating his next move.

At his third bar stop, a young, frail-looking man, who looked as lost as Han felt, claimed the barstool next to him. The two men eventually struck up a friendly conversation, which was a rare occurrence for the ordinarily distrustful Corellian. After guzzling down several more drinks, the pair were getting along quite well and even nearly succeeded in picking up a set of gorgeous twin sisters by pretending they were brothers.

"How about you show us around town?" Han had asked the slightly taller of the two knockouts. He had nearly succeeded in his conquest before the woman's other half had firmly, almost forcefully, steered her sister out of the cantina.

Han and his drinking companion merely laughed off their failed efforts to score a date with the lovely sisters. Moments later, he learned that the man needed a pilot to fly him to Alderaan, so he had instantly offered his services, albeit for an exorbitant fee, expecting his new acquaintance to laugh him out of the bar. He had nearly fallen off his seat in shock when the man actually accepted his lofty price, which included paying him in advance.

Suddenly, an incredulous Han owned half of the credits required to pay off Jabba, and his future didn't look nearly as bleak as it had a week earlier. If he could somehow raise the rest of the amount, he could pay back the greasy crime lord, plead for his life, and maybe regain a future for his best friend and himself.

An hour before closing time, Han's future passenger, having ingested an obscene amount of alcoholic beverages, lost the last of his inhibitions and revealed his true identity. In fact, his drinking companion had told a story that seemed so unbelievable, Han knew it had to be true.

The man's real name was Callen Reeseon. He was the youngest son of the House Reeseon, one of the oldest and most influential noble families of the planet Alderaan. So esteemed was his background that at age nine, he was promised Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan's hand in marriage, even though she was a mere infant at the time. His older twin brothers, Eneel and Darvane, had been deemed inappropriate matches for the future queen due to an 18-year age gap.

So, on the tenth anniversary of his birth, Callen's engagement to the future queen was officially recognized in a lavish ceremony that occurred under the watchful eyes of Alderaan's top ruling houses. The wedding would happen nineteen years into the future, one month after the princess's 20th birthday and a month before Callen's 30th year.

In the meantime, few knew that the princess's parents, Bail and Breha Organa, had become secretly involved with the creation of an Alliance intended to restore the Republic's authority after the power- greedy Palpatine had declared himself Galactic Emperor. Callen's father, Mennick Reeseon, also a senator, had eagerly joined the secret operation, much to his wife's dismay and disapproval.

A few months later, Callen's mother fell into a severe depression when her two sons and her husband, along with Breha and Bail Organa, were killed by imperial forces who gunned down their ships shortly after they left Alderaan to embark on a secret mission for the Alliance. Government officials reported their deaths as a tragic accident, but those in high command knew the Empire was behind their demise.

Fearful for the life of her one remaining child, Callen's mother promptly sent away her ten-year-old son to live with a female cousin who resided in a secluded area on Corellia. She guarded his secret hideout to the very end when she perished at the hands of Imperials who insisted that she knew the location of a map detailing hidden sites of several alliance meeting stations, including its primary headquarters.

Meanwhile, Callen had grown to love his surrogate mother like his own. As an adult, he nursed the woman through her final years when she suffered from PSju's Disease, a fatal genetic disorder.

The galactic civil war had lasted 16 long years. It had finally ended two years ago with the underdog Alliance emerging as the victors and Palpatine and his apprentice, Darth Vader, dying in a battle with Rebel do-gooder Luke Skywalker.

And the infant princess? Well, the Empire had wisely kept their distance from the royal family member. The beloved orphan was revered across the galaxy and became a symbol of hope throughout the civil war. Celly, Bail's childless sister, had raised the young girl almost entirely on her own. The woman doted on the princess and spent hours grooming her niece for her prestigious role as future queen, a position she was scheduled to inherit on her 21st birthday. In the interim, a team comprised of Breha's most trust aides presided over Alderaan, at least until the princess assumed her rightful position.

Shortly after Callen's mother's died, he had discovered that he, too, had developed PSju's Disease. Knowing how quickly the illness had ravaged his mother's body, he became determined to visit his former home country of Alderaan one more time before he passed. It was then that he had wandered into the bar where he met Han and eventually asked the pilot to fly him home.

The two men had arranged to meet at Corellia's Agrilat hangar the following morning, but his passenger hadn't shown at the agreed time. When Han jotted over to the inn where the man had been staying, he was saddened to witness emergency vehicles transporting Callen's sheet-covered body out of a guest room. The poor man had passed away overnight without ever having had the chance to revisit his homeland.

It was then that Han had hatched his plan, carefully crafting it on the flight to Alderaan. And now he sat in the cockpit of his ship willing himself to find the courage to pursue his idea.

"Might as well get this ordeal over with," he muttered, rising from his seat and heading for his ship's exit.

As it turned out, an average guy like him couldn't just walk up to the House of Organa making demands to speak with the princess. A guard stationed outside of the magnificent royal palace politely suggested that the Corellian return once he'd made an appointment through the proper channels.

So, Han returned to the Falcon and spent the next several days calling House of Organa and trying but failing to secure an appointment with the princess. At first, the stubborn man refused to tell anyone who screened his calls why he wanted to meet with the famous royal family member. Eventually, realizing his tactic wasn't working, he dangled just enough information to pique the right person's interest.

"I have coveted information concerning the fate of Callen Reeseon," he told one of the princess's assistants.

He wasn't sure if his new, blunt approach had worked. As usual, the congenial woman recorded his message and pledged to return his call. Han didn't expect an answer and was mulling over his next move when he was staggered to receive a return call from the palace only a few minutes later.

Han had seen the exterior of House of Organa many times over the years and appreciated its stunning architecture. However, the outside of the royal house was nothing compared to its grand interior with miles of marble floors, plush carpet, and luminous gold fixtures.

"Might I know you, sir?" an elderly servant asked him tentatively as Han waited in a receiving room for the princess's arrival.

"Doubt we've ever met," Han replied.

The man looked unconvinced by his answer, but he quickly resumed a professional demeanor.

"May I bring you a refreshment while you wait?"

"Nah," Han said, shrugging dismissively. "I'll just wait right here until I can speak with Princess Leia."

Before the old man could respond, an attractive older woman entered the room. She stopped in her tracks upon seeing Han and gazed at him with a dumbfounded expression before she regained her composure. Forcing a smile on her lovely face, she walked over to him and extended her hand. Han stiffly gripped her hand for a few seconds before letting it drop awkwardly.

"Welcome," the woman said in a regal tone. "I am Celly, the princess' aunt and one-time guardian."

"Where's Princess Leia?" Han asked with a frown.

"You were never promised a meeting with the princess," the woman replied in a warm tone, glossing over his displeased reaction. "I always personally screen the princess's meetings first. If I think it's necessary that she meet with you, we will schedule a meeting for a later date."

"I think you will find it necessary that I meet with the princess," Han said with more confidence than he felt.

"Why is that?" she asked.

"Because I am the long lost Callen Reeseon, and I am here to claim my engagement to Princess Leia," he answered.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is preposterous," Leia complained as she applied a second coat of blush pink to her pouty lips. "I am clearly insane. Surely that is the only logical reason why I agreed to this ridiculous charade."

"Honestly, Aunt Celly," she added, turning to face the one person she trusted more than anyone in the galaxy. "What was I thinking?"

"Hush," the older woman soothed softly. She paused to appraise her niece's appearance. The princess presented a stunning picture in her floor-length, white taffeta gown. She had gathered her long, chestnut locks into a single, elegant braid that reached the small of her back. The fastidious woman nodded with satisfaction.

"Any worries you entertain are frivolous," she assured the young girl.

"How considerate of you to dismiss my legitimate concerns as silly."

"Do you honestly think that you will be left alone with that man for even a moment?" Aunt Celly demanded.

"So, you'll stay with me the entire time?"

"My dear, the man would be a fool to try to pry me away from you tonight, or he will incur my wrath. He would have an easier time persuading a Jedi to dispose of his light saber than to convince me to leave your side."

"Ah, yes. Speaking of weapons, where is mine?" the princess asked in a faux sweet tone that surfaced during her most cynical moments. The young woman's perfectly manicured hands pulled a blaster out of a bureau drawer. "Yes, this one will work quite nicely tonight."

Deliberately ostentatious, Leia lifted half of her dress and slid the weapon into a leather holster that guarded her right thigh.

"Now I am fully dressed," she declared.

"I do not know where you inherited your fondness for vulgar weapons, but I assure you that it was not from my brother," Aunt Celly replied, wrinkling her pretty face in disdain.

"Are you implying that my mother harbored an affinity for blasters?" the princess asked teasingly.

"Certainly not. Breha was a lady through and through."

"Mother was a pacifist first and foremost," Leia corrected.

"Perhaps if Mother had carried a blaster, she might be here right now," she added.

The older woman opened her mouth to scold her surrogate daughter for the insensitive remark but promptly shut it without uttering a word. She did not wish to provoke the plethora of sass that resided inside Leia. The young woman's sharp tongue had chased away some of the galaxy's most eligible suitors. She would not let her add another one to the list of men who had fled from the turbulent storm commonly known as the Princess of Alderaan.

"How can you even be certain this man is who he claims to be?" Leia asked for the umpteenth time since learning that her long-lost intended had reappeared.

"Of course, we cannot be certain… yet," Aunt Celly admitted. "That is precisely why we are meeting with him. If this man truly is Callen, he will have to prove his identity. He will be expected to answer my questions with answers only a Reeseon would know. If he cannot rise to the challenge, we will have little choice but to dismiss the man as an imposter. No doubt, he will be thrown in prison for attempting to swindle a royal family member."

"Even so, I don't…" Leia's aunt started to add softly before trailing off.

"Don't leave your thought unfinished," the princess encouraged. "Even so, you don't what?"

Celly wavered, contemplating the relentless suspicion that had nagged her since she had caught sight of the man claiming to be the Reeseon heir. She shook her head as if to clear it and plunged forward, finally committed to revealing her true suspicions on the matter.

"Leia, I nearly fainted from shock when I entered the receiving room and saw that man standing before me waiting to speak with you."

"Why?"

"It was like I had been transported 25 years into the past and Mennick Reeseon was standing in front of me as if time had never passed."

Leia knew the buried pain her aunt harbored. As a young woman, Celly had loved Mennick since the two had played together as children. By their late teens, the couple's relationship had turned romantic, and they often spoke of one day marrying one another.

One day, Mennick had accompanied his father to Coruscant to sit in on several senate sessions. Beginning at an early age, the young man's family had begun grooming him to become a senator. Such trips were common practice for the father and son.

However, a different Mennick returned to Alderaan. The future senator's behavior had dramatically shifted in nature. He acted cold and distant toward Celly, sometimes even snapping at her over trivial matters. One week after his return, Mennick devastated her by ending their relationship. Two months later, he announced his engagement to Pya Linette, the daughter of a wealthy furniture manufacturer, and married the other woman shortly afterward.

Aunt Celly had never recovered from the betrayal. A dutiful daughter, at first she allowed other men, all from esteemed families, to court her. Like her ex-love, she, too, had changed. Melancholy dulled her once bright eyes. Cynicism clouded her formerly optimistic nature. She simply could not feign interest in any other man, not after losing the love of her life. As the years passed, the woman's youthful glow also abandoned her. Men eventually stopped calling on her. For years, she led a solitary life withdrawing from a cruel social scene filled with spiteful busybodies who partook in nasty gossip about her all-too-public heartache.

When the Empire had stolen Leia's innocence by murdering her parents, Celly found a new purpose in life. The passionate woman hurled herself into the daunting role of the princess's caretaker and legal guardian. She loved her niece unconditionally and assumed dual roles as the young girl's armor and her staunchest advocate.

"Aunt Celly," Leia began delicately. "Is it possible that your intense feelings for your ex-beau could have clouded your judgement?"

The woman offered a self-conscious smile. Even so, behind the embarrassed expression lay firmness and certainty.

"Even prior to the man identifying himself, I felt certain that he was Callen Reeseon. You see, his eyes revealed his identity to me."

"How can you make such a claim when we have never known Callen as a grown man?"

"I knew his father at his age," Aunt Celly answered softly. "If that man is not who he claims to be, I will be stunned. Their physical resemblance is striking."

Leia blew out an exasperated breath that signaled her defeat on the issue. Her aunt seemed convinced that her long-lost fiancé had returned to claim her as his betrothed. She would have to be the one to prove the man's deceit. And she would do exactly that. She would not waste the remainder of her life married to a stranger.

"Let's get this debacle over with," Leia muttered, shaking her head in disgust as she headed toward the door. "I have a bad feeling about this."


End file.
